


The Neon burns a Hole in the Night

by MeringueMeringue



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Friends to Lovers, Multi, OC is basically Gloria but not, Slow Burn, Will update tags as they apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeringueMeringue/pseuds/MeringueMeringue
Summary: “I don’t know if it’s possible to be nostalgic for something you never had, or to mourn the loss of something that was never yours in the first place. But way back, when we couldn’t find Leon the night before the championship match, you said something that stuck with me.”When the new champion saw Spikemuth and its gym leader for the first time, it stirred a fire inside of her. Coming back to the town a year later, she tries to figure out what it all means.Marked as OC, but the champ is for all intents and purposes the version of Gloria I ended up with by the end of the game.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers, Nezu | Piers/Original Pokemon Trainer(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. You can find my kind living right on the fault line.

**Author's Note:**

> i am not british. i tried (sort of). forgive me. XD

It had been nearly a year since Leon had been dethroned. Nearly a year since Piers had relinquished his title as gym leader to pursue music full-time. Nearly a year since the musician had seen the new Champion, Eleanore. But there she was, standing by the back of the crowd at one of his shows in her too-clean-for-Spikemuth white dress, seemingly just taking the scene in. He couldn’t help but spend the rest of his performance wondering what she was doing here after so long.

She wasn’t exactly slender, with a round face, shock-pink pixie cut, and moss green eyes that were always looking at everything quizzically through thick frames. At least a full head shorter than Piers, she addressed him with sidelong glances, head cocked rather than looking up at him directly. When she approached after the show, Piers braced himself for some asinine stop-the-world-from-exploding-again-with-me request, but it didn’t come. Instead, it was a simple, “Hey, Piers.”

“‘Ey,'' He spoke cautiously. He really didn’t fancy getting involved in anything right now. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Would you believe it,” Eleanore started, an eyebrow arched. There was something about her lilt that was cleaner than Spikemuth’s but, at the same time, less tame. The flipped r’s, overstressed vowels, and varied pitch made her speech sound more like song. “...if I just said I like your music?”

“No.” Piers replied, more brusque than he had intended.

Her face softened. “Figures. Erm. I was here having a bit of a spar with Marnie. She’s been suggesting I stick around to see you perform, but usually by the time we were done training I’d missed out on seeing you. Hadn’t been able to actually catch one ‘till today. I forgot how energetic you were on stage.” She hesitated, then added, “I also wanted to apologize. Should have sooner really… You stuck your neck out for us a lot last year when you didn’t have to. But you did it anyway, and I’m grateful. So, thank you.” 

“‘S no big deal. Besides, you didn’t fuckin’ call, I just showed up. Right?” Piers referenced the words Eleanore muttered on the roof of the power plant a year ago, after he had told her not to call asking for any more favors. Those words weren’t meant for his ears, or anyone’s for that matter.

“Oh god, you’d heard that? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Shut the fuck up, Eleanore.” Piers tittered. “It’s fine, honestly. I’m over it. And you’re technically right.”

Eleanore paused, scratching her shoulder through the black leather jacket she wore overtop her dress. “Ah, I erm. I suppose I should be heading off then.”

Piers caught himself just as Eleanore turned to leave. “Hey, wait. You’re serious about likin’ my show?”  
  
“Of course!” Eleanore chuckled, looking back up at him. “It’s got this quality to it that’s… How would you even describe it? The rhythm is so pervasive and off-kilter. Makes it hard to breathe, kind of, like there’s static in my lungs. I think I go for music that does that to me; makes me feel complicated. Ah, that doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense does it.”

“No, none at all.” Piers couldn’t hold back his own soft laughter now, both bemused at the champion’s description, and needing to release the tension of the moment. “I didn’t take you for someone who’d like my kind o’ sound, but you’ve surprised me before. Er… I think I’ve set us off on the wrong foot today. Care to catch up for a minute?”

The two found an unoccupied bench near the back of the makeshift stadium. This town hadn’t changed a bit since Eleanore’s days as a challenger, for better or worse. At least Marnie was holding her own as a leader, though the true test would be the rapidly approaching tournament season. A moment passed awkwardly between the singer and champion. It had been months since they had last spoken, and as far as Eleanore was concerned they hadn’t been on terribly great terms after he had told her, in so many words, to fuck off and leave him alone. 

After what felt like too long, Piers cleared his throat. “So… You and Marnie’ve been trainin’ together.”

It wasn’t a question. Eleanore was sure Marnie must’ve mentioned it to her brother at some point. She went along with it anyway. “When we get the chance. It’s been hard to set aside time for that kind of thing often, so I can only swing by once every few weeks or so.”

“That busy?”

“Yeah.” Eleanore scoffed, looking up at the array of flickering neon. “Y’know, I always knew Leon was active, but I figured it was just him, his enthusiasm. Never would’ve imagined how much I’d get wrapped up in. League’s been sending me to all kinds of meetings, mixers… etiquette workshops, even. Grooming me to be a proper performer.”

“Sorry to hear you’re so woefully unprepared for your position.” Piers faux-smirked, hoping Eleanore would take the jab lightly. He felt a wave of relief when she scoffed back at him, grinning.

“So what about you then? Living the easy life now that being a gym leader is off your docket?”

“Eleanore, I wouldn’t call a single day in this town ‘the easy life.’”  
  
“Right. I-”

“‘S fine.” Piers interrupted her apology. He didn’t want to dwell on the subject. “But I’ve er. Been performin’ mostly. Locally, and whatever other gigs I can come across. And makin’ sure Marnie’s as prepared as she can be for the tournament in a few months. Thanks for helpin’ with that by the way. My own talents are limited, so I’m glad she’s got another trainin’ partner.”  
  
“Don’t sell yourself short, Piers.”

“I’m not, I just know I don’t have a lot of experience outside of dark types. She’s gonna come up against a variety of teams, and you’ve never been one to stick to a certain type.” Piers fiddled with his choker. “Be candid with me, how’s trainin’ with her goin’?”

“She holds her own pretty well, actually, even against some of the more oddball teams I’ve thrown at her. And she takes critique loads better than a certain other new gym leader I won’t name. I have no doubt she’ll carry your torch well. You should’ve been there today,” Elanore laughed, “I had the smart idea of seeing how well she could face a copy of her own team.”

Piers raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And how’d that turn out?”

“Who’d‘ve fuckin’ thought, she knows her team pretty damn well. All I’ll say is there’s a reason we got done so early today. I’ll let her give you the full rundown later, instead of embarrassing myself.”

The two shared a laugh. Marnie crushing the champion’s attempt at using her own lineup against her? Piers would’ve loved to see that.

A chime went off from inside the backpack sitting between them - Eleanore’s phone alarm. “Ah, I should actually be going. I’ve got to be at a meeting about fucking _tourney dress code_ over in Hammerlocke this evening that I’m sure is going to be just riveting.” She rolled her eyes, her voice hanging on to every syllable of that final word.

“Get used to it, that one happens every year.” Piers replied, holding in a snort. Has she always had such an attitude? “And swing by again when you can. I want to hear some of that music you like that makes you feel so complicated.”

“Fair warning, it’s all over the place. If you’d like, we could trade recommendations. I’d love to hear some of your inspirations too.”

“That… actually sounds quite nice. See you ‘round then?”

“See you around.” Eleanore gathered her pack and waved once, making her way out of the small city.

Piers waited until she was out of sight, before mumbling, “And er... you’re welcome, I think.”


	2. The past rolls back, I can see us still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve got something on your mind.” Raihan observed, finishing with the tangle he was working on and smoothing it down. “Have all night. I can tell.”
> 
> “Jokes on you,it’s just constant noise in there.” Piers’ response was dry, but he smirked to let the other man know it was in fact a joke. At least in part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops it's been over a month since part one.  
> this thing's sort of going through a near-entire rewrite to make it more cohesive.  
> also it's just been. y'know. *gestures at the world*

The view from the Hammerlocke gym leader’s balcony was splendid, overlooking the perfectly preserved historical architecture of the city with a glimpse of the Lake of Outrage far in the distance. It was a sight Piers sometimes wished he could walk out of his own flat and see, but oftentimes was glad it wasn’t. Nothing about the grandeur of this city was normal, and to see it often enough to be used to it would be far above his lot. He got his fill of the view often enough; it’s where he and Raihan often inevitably ended up to cool off after sex. The air still crisp coming off the last lingering trail of winter leading into spring, Piers stood in a borrowed hoodie and his own trousers, letting his friend-and-sometimes-partner finger-comb the knots out of his hair.

“You’ve got something on your mind.” Raihan observed, finishing with the tangle he was working on and smoothing it down. “Have all night. I can tell.”

“Jokes on you,it’s just constant noise in there.” Piers’ response was dry, but he smirked to let the other man know it _was_ in fact a joke. At least in part.

Raihan lit a cigarette, offering one to Piers who waved it off. He’d been _trying_ to quit - he kept telling himself - tired of his younger sister giving him an earful every time he came home smelling like smoke. Stuffing the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket, Raihan said, “Sure, but you’re not usually stare-off-into-the-sunset levels of detached. What’s up?”

“Nothin’ important,” he started, but let the rest out anyway. “What do you think of the new champion?”

Stifling a chuckle, Raihan replied, “That’s what you’ve been thinking about all night? She’s… interesting. Fresh. I enjoy battling her, but… Hm, how do I put it? She’s no Leon. I mean, I can’t see us having the same kind of rivalry. It feels manufactured. I think the media sees it too; it’s been the subject of every interview this season. Why do you ask?”

Piers shrugged, trying to work out how to phrase this without causing alarm. “She stayed the night after havin’ a bit of an accident.”

Raihan leaned on the railing and Piers hunched so he wouldn’t have to look down at him. “Now that you bring it up, I did see a headline about her being injured in Spikemuth.”

“That would be how the press spins it. Brilliant, that reflects so well on my town.” Piers groaned, leaning back using the balcony railing to hold up his weight. “She found a wounded Purrloin on the outskirts of town and got hurt transportin’ it to the Pokemon Center. I think it’s becomin’ a standard for her, gettin’ herself into situations like that. Marnie just showed up with her one evenin’ after apparently our Center’s nurse patched her up.”

* * *

Eleanore had been an absolute sight to behold. One sleeve of her grey pullover stained a gnarly brown-red and rolled up past her elbow with her forearm wrapped in bandages, she stood with Marnie in the doorway to the sibling’s flat. Marnie explained the situation - that she ran into Eleanore outside the Pokemon Center and stayed with her while she and the Purrloin were being cared for, and that she didn’t feel comfortable letting Eleanore travel so late with that injury so she invited her up for tea. She was in the middle of offering to let Eleanore stay the night when Eleanore interrupted. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposin’ if I’m askin’” Marnie responded, and then looked towards Piers, who tried his best to hide his reluctance. “Right?”

“Right,” he choked out. It was impossible for him to deny a request from his little sis. 

“See? It’s fine. I’ll get food sorted.” Marnie squeezed past her brother. The place was small - it opened directly into the kitchen, with a space that almost passed as a sitting room to the left. Two doors in back - one of which Piers had hastily shut when he realized there was a guest - led to what Eleanore could assume to be bedrooms, and a third led to the bathroom. Eleanore was surprised; she’d stayed in single-person hotel rooms larger than this flat. Not that she had any right to complain about a free place to rest.

Piers regarded the woman in front of him. “You’re just a fuckin’ pinnacle of carefulness, aren’t you?”

When she didn’t respond except for a huff and an embarrassed wince, he reeled his sardonicism back. “Erm. Make yourself at home I guess. If you want to get out of that mess, I think I can find an old tee-shirt of mine that might fit you.”

“I was planning on camping tonight. Before, y’know, this.” Eleanore gestured with her bandaged arm. “So I’ve got spare clothes with me. But thanks.”

After being pointed towards Marnie’s room to change in - slowly and carefully to avoid bumping her arm - Eleanore returned, now in an old band tee, to find a meal already served. It was simple, just beans with some toast and a sausage - Eleanore noticed that Marnie and Piers had split theirs and left her the whole one. She debated cutting it up and offering some back but figured it’d be presumptuous of her. 

Piers stood leaning against the wall to eat; their small table wouldn’t fit three. After a while, he broke the relative silence. “D’you know how the Purrloin made out, then, after you left it with the nurse?”

Eleanore swallowed and shook her head. “She didn’t have immediate news, but it might lose its hind leg. It was… pretty mangled when I got to it.”

She looked like she wanted to drop it, so Piers didn’t ask any more. The Pokemon around here could be just as much rowdy little shites as the human population of the town, so it wasn’t unheard of for them to scrap with each other. Sometimes even to the point of needing human intervention. But he’d never heard of one getting so near-mortally wounded as this. From what he’d heard from Marnie’s recap earlier, they couldn’t tell what had gotten to it. Whether it had been a person or a wild pokemon or a trained one. He’d have to keep an ear out for anything else like this.

He didn’t know why he was surprised that Eleanore had put herself in harm’s way to help the thing. It’s not like this was the first time she’d done something like that. But watching her eat with one hand, the other sitting limply in her lap, he chastised himself for not being there in retrospect. Like he could have prevented this or something.

The meal finished without any further conversation, Marnie excused herself to have a shower after her long day of training. Piers shuffled back into his own room, hoping to get some work done on the song he’d been writing before all this had interrupted him. He didn’t know whether leaving his door opened would be more or less uncomfortable than shutting it; whether Eleanore would prefer privacy or feel like she was being shut out. Marnie had been the one to invite her, but she was still a guest in his home. So he left it half-open and just mumbled “Lemme know if you want this shut.”

“It’s fine like that,” she called back to him.

Utterly distracted from his writing by the fact that he swore he could feel her eyes on him every few minutes, he glanced up each time only to find her scrolling through her phone or fiddling with the bandages on her arm. At one point he watched her for a few minutes to see if she just happened to look away each time he looked up, but instead she simply stared listlessly towards the front door. He figured she must be bored out of her mind. She hadn’t been invited to hang out - not that there was much entertainment to offer anyway - but he couldn’t stand watching her sit aimlessly, too shy to even ask to turn the telly on.

He grabbed his phone and plopped himself on the sofa next to her. “Since you’ll be here a bit, what d’you say about makin’ good on that promise from earlier?”

“Wh-” 

“About sharin’ music,” he reminded her. “I’ll start us off.”

Piers pressed play. He figured whatever he’d been listening to last would do - an older punk band, a generation or so before his time. It wasn’t anything particularly revolutionary, but it was representative enough.

“I think I liked everything but the vocalist.” Eleanore stated when the song ended.

“Really.” Piers pressed for an explanation. He learned she had a thing for melodic vocals and syncopated beats - though he had to teach her that term after enduring a confusing explanation of what she meant by “weird percussion”. Handing the phone to her, he said, “Your turn then.”

She paused, surprised he trusted her with something as private and personal as his phone, and started typing in the name of a metal band.

“Ah I know them.” Piers interrupted. “They’re alright. Don’t just go tryin’ to win me over though. Surprise me.”

“I’m not trying to win you over, I’ve listened to them for near a decade. But fine. Would you prefer rap or folk?”

Those were the only two choices? “Ugh, flip a coin.”

Eleanore scoffed and fished a Pokedollar coin out of her bag. She rolled it between her fingers and gave it to Piers. “You flip it, I don’t know if I can catch it one-handed.”

“So kings is rap and tails is folk?” He tossed the coin in the air and caught it. Slapping it onto his other hand to reveal it, the coin showed the proud face of an old Galarian king. “Rap it is, then. If it’s anything like what Raihan listens to, you’re sleeping on the curb.”

“That bad?” Eleanore giggled. She typed in a name and scrolled through the songs until she found the one that had made her pay attention to this artist in the first place. Piers had wanted to know last time they spoke what she’d meant by “complicated”; this would be it. Hoping he would see it - the tenderness, the catharsis, the overwhelming candor, the ounce of spite - she hit play to a voice that sounded like equal parts silk and sandpaper.

 _My father was a paper plane  
_ _My mother was a windswept tree  
_ _My little brother's nearly twice my age  
_ _He taught me how to meditate, I taught him how to read_

Piers chuckled at a line about dark circles, and then fell silent. Like a strange mirror reflecting an alternate version of himself, parts of this could’ve just as easily been written about him. Or by him, if he’d had the gumption to write things so close to home. Quietly he remarked, “‘s not what I expected when you said rap.”

Eleanore smirked up at him. When she saw the furrow in his brow and the way his gaze bored into the floor, she softened and asked, “Want me to turn it off?”

He shook his head, mouthing a “no.” He let the song finish, hanging on to every word, and when it had ended he asked, “Why’d you pick that one?”

“It was the first in the album.” Eleanore said, shrugging. “And the first song of hers I heard that really drew me in. The way she writes with such specificity and draws you so close to the experience, it’s like you were there even if you weren’t. ”

“I can see that. You’ve got my number, text me that artist later?”

“It’s in your play history.” She handed his phone back to him.

“Right.” Piers flushed.

Chuckling, Eleanore offered, “I’ll text you some of my other favorites.”

“I look forward to it.” He smiled before quickly adding, “But no folk. If it’s anythin’ like this was, I might actually enjoy it, and just that thought is terrifyin’ enough.”

* * *

Raihan’s lips curled. “Sounds like you had a better time than you made it out to be.”

“She’s alright.”

“You fucking fancy her.”

Piers hung his head, laughing once. He bit his lip - they were already chapped, what was the point of avoiding it - and let the accusation sink in before affirming it. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know OC stuff gets far less interest (even if it is, in this case just "endgame oc"), so thank you for reading.


End file.
